


Bleed Complementary Colors

by romanticalgirl



Category: Bandom, Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Album), My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M, Waycest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-20
Updated: 2010-09-20
Packaged: 2017-10-23 10:48:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/249455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When was I ever promised to get back all that I gave?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bleed Complementary Colors

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [](http://inlovewithnight.livejournal.com/profile)[**inlovewithnight**](http://inlovewithnight.livejournal.com/) for encouragement and such. Based on a general request from [](http://turps33.livejournal.com/profile)[**turps33**](http://turps33.livejournal.com/) and encouraged in this route by [](http://turlough.livejournal.com/profile)[**turlough**](http://turlough.livejournal.com/).

  
The world isn’t what it used to be.

The desert stretches everywhere now, no end in sight. Cities are islands of metal and steel in the vast ocean of sand that’s claimed crops and roads and lives, but no one would mistake them for any kind of oasis. The desert may be hard living, but it’s actually _living_ , or at least doing the closest thing possible to it.

They’ve managed to make something of a home in the middle of nothing, a diner on Route 66 that still retains some of the pink wash in the spray of brown. Ray and Frank are inside going over plans that they’d taken off a dead Agent, looking for information they don’t already have. Gerard’s beneath the Trans Am, muttering under his breath about fucking tumbleweeds and sand fleas. Mikey just hands him a wrench and then goes back to guard duty, viewing the desert through his dark visor.

Gee finally scrambles out from underneath and gets to his feet, wriggling out of his jacket and tossing it on the roof of the car before wiping the sand off his ass and the back of his legs. “We’re milkshake.”

“Good.” Mikey takes the helmet off and sets it on the roof as well. Whatever their lives were before, these are their iconic symbols now. Changed from black to glowing color, trying like fuck to bring some life to the brown that hums around them like it’s alive. He knows his eyes are bloodshot, even before he rubs the heel of his hand against them. Never enough sleep, never enough protection from the biting sand, never enough of anything except bad guys and dust. “Another problem with that oil pan and we’re going to have to hit Battery City.”

Gerard just nods, leaning against the car. “Cost us too much last time.”

Mikey nods back and rakes his hand through his hair. Gerard says us, but Mikey knows that he doesn’t share the weight of what happened to Bob with any of them. That’s his and his alone. “Don’t make me quote Spock.”

There’s a ghost of a smile as Gerard shifts, legs splayed slightly, and the fading sun lights him up like something otherworldly, glowing gray and red like he’s his own event horizon. “Like you need an excuse to quote Spock.”

“I like context sometimes.” Mikey moves forward between Gerard’s legs and leans into him, forehead to forehead. He can taste Gerard’s breath, the stale sweet hint of kibble, the sourness of residual fear and adrenaline. “Hey.”

“Hi.” They just breathe each other in, a moment out of time that are too few and far between. Mikey’s not sure who initiates the kiss, not sure that it matters anymore. Social mores were never their thing and now they don’t even exist, so he presses closer. Gerard’s hands go directly to Mikey’s hair, threading into the sun-bleached strands as he takes the kiss over, thrusting his tongue deep in Mikey’s mouth. Everything is frantic and desperate anymore, but Gerard always manages keep it slow to start with, fucking Mikey’s mouth thoroughly before his fingers tense, hands tightening into fists and pulling Mikey’s head back.

Mikey licks his lips, the chapped surface softer from the wet thrust of Gerard’s tongue. The sun’s almost gone, and it’s about to get dangerous, flash lightning burning up the ozone, but that doesn’t stop Mikey from sinking to his knees, undoing Gerard’s belt and fly and nuzzling him, inhaling the raw dry scent of musk and sand before he takes him in his mouth. Gerard half-moans and half-hisses, and Mikey knows his lips are too rough on the sensitive skin, but he wants too much to go slow. The metal burns his fingertips and heats up the leather of his gloves as he braces himself on the car, sucking Gerard deep, feeling the pressure on his tongue, against the roof of his mouth, against the back of his throat. Gerard’s hands tighten more and he controls Mikey, guiding him. Mikey relaxes and lets Gerard lead him, tongue and throat working in unison until Gerard shudders hard and comes, still thrusting as Mikey swallows him down.

Gerard’s head falls back and hits the roof of the car as Mikey pulls off, but his hands jerk Mikey to his feet, pulling him into another kiss. This one is wetter, like they’ve finally managed to slake a thirst, even though all Mikey wants is more. He breaks off, panting hard as he jerks his head away, knowing a few of his blond strands are still wrapped around Gerard’s fingers. Gerard rakes his hand through his red hair, leaving traces of Mikey woven through it.

“Turn.” Mikey’s voice is hoarse as he pushes Gerard’s shoulder until he’s facing the car. Gerard’s in charge of them all, in his head if not in reality, but he goes easily, giving in to Mikey like he won’t to anyone else. They’re all a family now, but some bonds are unbreakable, exert a power that overrides everything else. Mikey undoes his jeans and spits in his hand, working his thumb against his fingers to slick them up and clean them off before he spits on them again. He presses his knee against the sagging fabric of Gerard’s jeans, making them fall further down his legs. The first flash of lightning flares across the sky as Mikey presses his fingers against Gerard’s skin, easing two inside him slowly.

Gerard buries his groan in his bicep, red hair falling down over his face and arm like candy apple red blood, spider legs and shattered rainbows. Mikey pushes his fingers deeper, spreading them, listening to the sounds change with every thrust. Mikey doesn’t have to see to know that Gerard will have the sharp curved marks of his teeth in his skin, more bright red against the pale. He gets a third finger in and Gerard keens softly, rising up on his toes. Mikey’s only got so much restraint when it comes to this, and he eases his fingers out carefully, listening to Gerard’s breath hitch and change.

It doesn’t take long to get his pants down far enough to free his cock, and he fights the desert dryness, biting his tongue to make himself salivate, to work up enough spit to slick himself up. More lightning lights up the sky, crackling like electricity, and somewhere in the background, he can hear Frank doing his best impression of a mad scientist, shouting out “It’s alive! It’s alive!” Gerard muffles a laugh, and Mikey knows he’s heard it too, but this moment is theirs, so he steals it back, pressing against Gerard until he hears and feels the gasp, pushing inside him in one slow, smooth thrust.

“Mikes. Fuck, Mikes.” Gerard’s forehead has to burn against the metal hood, so Mikey reaches up, threading his fingers into Gerard’s hair and pulling hard, leaning in so red and blond mix together, highlight and compliment and sharp and soft and tanned and pale and him and them. Mikey’s hips rock forward and Gerard’s roll back and they’re moving in their rhythm, their own music that goes back to long before the world tried to end and they decided not to let it.

Mikey comes hard, buried deep, gasping Gerard’s name into his dye-stained skin. He can’t taste dust right now. He can’t taste anything but Gerard’s skin, the heat that comes from blood pumping and humanity, from survival. A cactus ten feet from them catches lightning and burns to black. “Might be a sign.”

Easing out of him, Mikey hikes up his jeans and fastens them, adjusting his thigh holster. “Better to burn out than fade away?”

“You won’t quote Spock, but you’ll quote The Kurgan?”

“The Kurgan is bad ass.”

“The Kurgan gets killed.”

“So does Spock.”

“He comes back to _life_.”

Mikey sighs. “Fine. But it’s only because Rodenberry was too chickenshit to kill off an iconic character for good.”

“That’s blasphemy, you know.”

Mikey grabs Gerard’s arm and pulls him close, kissing him hard. The dark red stripes of his jacket match the color of Gerard’s hair, even though he can’t see them in the dark. “It’s only blasphemy if you believe. And I don’t believe in anything but us.”

“Hey,” Ray’s voice is disembodied in the darkness. “Broadcast is about to go live. We ready?”

“Hell yes,” Gerard squeezes Mikey’s hand. “Born ready. Let's make some mother-fucking noise.”  



End file.
